


The Abomination

by Killstreak47



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 - Fandom
Genre: Cyberpunk, First Time, The world is black, This has a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-10 13:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20136271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killstreak47/pseuds/Killstreak47
Summary: A story of a man given a gift and a curse. The world will never be safe, but it never has been. There is no hero, just a guy trying to get by. He makes friends, finds enemies and faces death in the face.Tommy Cuthlin, the rogue, begins his hellish new existence and starts off facing down something in the depths of nightmares, where none will hear him scream.





	1. Selection

The city sounds shot past my window. Tommy didn’t care. They weren’t as loud as the real shots. Gangs fight, people die, the world sinks back into the grave it makes for itself — if anyone could afford it. 

The question of mortality and the purpose of life was too much, and Tommy got up to check his emails. As he rose, he looked around. He saw a small room and smaller leg room. The lights were out, but the rust and the flaking grey paint on the door to the apartment. A few of his work clothes were astrew across the bed and the floor. It wasn’t a concern but I knew nobody else was going to clean it all up. 

I flicked up the screen to my laptop, swiping through my emails. The regular stuff. Get rich quick schemes. Donations to Charities. Company sales address. Three things that summarise the world around us. 

Nothing could be truer. No one could tell you that the likes of Hippo Corp or Hyperion or Geist Technologies don’t willingly manipulate our thinking. 

Then it popped up. Cellulon. That name was big, really big. They were at the forefront of every expo before they started selling to the highest bidder and forcing others to be slaves to their corporate needs. 

Tommy caught one word. Congratulations. The rest was about being selected for “prestigious” program. The thing that caught the rest of his eye was that there was a job up for grabs. 

“Well it couldn’t hurt”


	2. Customisation

My seat was uncomfortable. The air was stale and earthy. The plain grey concrete walls were thin layered with crimson patches. 

It was 4 in the morning. The follow up emails that were sent to me told me to go to a lower west side clinic and ask for Dr Ming. It is very hard to trust a clandestine authority when they aren’t punctual. Though it had been only an hour, the time felt like a day in a torture chamber. I could not physically stand the way that the room smelled. 

Then it hit me. Nobody else was here. People always needed cheap solutions to their numerous injuries and drug problems. Why aren’t they here? Now? The walls pierced my heart with their cold grey blank stares. 

At this point, a young doctor with jet black shoulder-length curly hair walked out and stood by the door with a clipboard in her arms. Dr Ming, I think. I don’t want to presume less my ticket to better places is snatched away from me and replaced by a swift kick to my delicate places. 

Several moments passed, before the Doctor rather impatiently grabs me by the ear and drags me into her consultation room. The pain subsided momentarily as she shoved me into a chair. The clipboard flew into my lap, followed by a small pen. The brutish and brash behaviour of the doctor wouldn’t go unnoticed on her performance review sheet. 

I quickly looked through the options and upgrades. 

Augmented limbs. Check.   
Armoured ribcage, reinforced skeleton, cranial plating. Check, check and check.   
Pain inhibitors. Helpful.   
Secondary heart... No...  
Better reflexes and a set of razor fangs. Definitely. 

I decided to get my new arms some other upgrades like a few blades, a hidden firearm or two, shocker system in the palm, nano-barbs and a nice pair of razor sharp nails. Imagine the handshakes. Ha!

Artificial muscles and blood. Sure. 

That was the last of the interesting options. I handed the clipboard back to the doctor, who took I bit of prodding to make my actions clear. She still shot me a look of pure distaste in me. Not really the first time that this has happened. 

She slowly reviewed the list and sighed. The next moment, a split second later, my gut was pierced with a needle. I looked at the doctor for help, but found her holding the gun. The world went blurry. I blacked out.


End file.
